The Vision
by DraconianPhilosopher
Summary: Link is tired and old. Long ago he attempted to escape from the memory of his quest, and now at the end of the road he finally finds a way to move on.


**It has been a while since I've posted anything. This started as a general journal assignment in my creative writing class, but I saw the potential to alter it to fit the Legend of Zelda Universe. I hope you enjoy, R &amp; R. **

_**Disclaimer: I do not in any way own the Legend of Zelda. This is for entertainment purposes alone, and not for profit.**_

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The melodious, fluttering notes of a flute echoed though the wood, accompanied by a sweet-sounding voice and the sorrowful sound of a violin being played. Together, they formed a haunting harmony which sent chills through the observer.

He crept closer, desiring to see the beings that could produce such a beautiful melody, which hung in the air, creating an aura of mystique.

He soon came across the clearing where the sources of the music were. There, enraptured in the passion of their craft, were three being so lovely to the observer that they seemed almost alien to behold.

The first, whose voice filled the air had hair that was such a marvelous shade of azure that the observer spent several moments taking in every swaying strand with his lupine eyesight as she moved with her own beat. Her eyes remained closed, concealing what the observer was sure to be eyes far more beautiful than any sapphire.

The second danced in perfect synchronization with her partner, each twirling about each other as the sound of their creation made the wood around him seem alive. Her hair was colored rich mahogany, so that it seemed more alive than any of the ancient trees around them. Her eyes, which he knew would be greener and more alive than any leaf or plant, much less a lifeless stone like an emerald, were closed, but were surrounded by laugh lines.

The third did not dance, but instead moved and bowed with each movement of her bow on the string. Her hair fanned out in an unseen breeze, covering her face and seemed to dance around her perfectly sculpted face like a living flame. He knew her eyes would be fierce and alive, passionate like the most enthralled scholar or the fiercest warrior in the nearby kingdom.

Their movements, combined with the allure of the music surrounding him, almost compelled the observer to pad forward on unconscious feet. Only by sheer willpower did he stay himself, needing all of his mental ability to resist the hypnotic temptation that threatened to seduce him into approaching them – to interrupt their dance and nudge his long face against their smooth legs, and feel their clever fingers run through his warm, soft pelt.

Each was clothed in a white gown that swirled and rose and fell with their movements, revealing pale flawless skin that looked soft to the touch. Their opaque feet were left bare of any sandal or shoe, seemingly untouched by the dust and dirt that they graced with their light tread. Connected by pale, shapely ankles and long perfectly formed legs, the view was soon cut off by the gown, which fell to just past their knees.

Clasped about each's swan-like neck were necklaces unique to each.

The flutist had a sapphire that was set into silver which was wrought to resemble the flowing winds, which washed over the world like her song; refreshing the weary and tired, and blowing away the ash and dust which accompanied stagnation.

The singer had an emerald which was set in gold, and it seemed to be filled with the radiance of the sun. The light pulsed; an erratic, vibrant surge of radiance that grew chaotically, just like the forest growth around them.

The violinist wore a ruby. It was set into adamant, and through the crystal the light which hit the ruby refracted and made it seem like there was a roaring flame clasped about her throat, alive and dancing unceasingly.

Each of the beings had slender arms ending in nimble hands. Each hand could have been the work of a master sculptor. Each finger was long and perfectly formed, and where they connected the skin was smooth and pale as though made of fragile porcelain.

Their faces were perfect, the observer noted, staring at the delicate noses, high cheekbones, and full eyelashes. Their lips were pink and thin, forming ecstatic smiles as they became one with their work, occasionally showing flashes of stainless teeth.

The observer was intoxicated, listening to them. Their passion had leaked into the air, and it left him, still entrapped in his lupine, bestial form, breathless.

Finally, the desire to approach these beings overpowered his will and he slowly padded his way towards them on silent paws.

Drawing closer, he took notice of their scent. Clean and fresh, they smelt like a clear spring day when the flowers were in bloom and the air was filled with a fragrant symphony.

They soon took notice of him, and for the first time he beheld their eyes as they halted in their music. He froze in place, hopelessly entrapped by the clear gaze locked onto him. Each had eyes of the most beautiful shade of violet he had ever seen, but they were deeper than his mortal mind could comprehend.

It was like gazing into a deep abyss – holding all of the crystalline properties of amethyst but possessing such deep wisdom that they could not be described as mere irises, but instead pools. The color was shot through with varying shades of red, blue and green which matched each of their necklaces.

He suddenly felt embarrassed that he had dared to sully them with his presence. He was a beast in comparison to these infinitely wiser, pure, and beautiful nymphs.

They smiled at him, as they had heard his thoughts.

"We can hear you, Hero," the Nymph of the Winds said.

Her voice was light and clear as a spring breeze. It held an infinite amount of wisdom and compassion, and from the sound alone he knew that her compatriot was not the only one of the trinity to sing.

"You honor us with you praise, Hero. But you do not know who we are, do you?" the Nymph of Life said.

Her voice was softer than her sisters, less stern and more motherly. Beyond her perfect lips, he could tell she was smiling at him by her eyes alone, which danced in laughter as the skin around them crinkled.

He didn't know who they were, no. He knew that they had to be important though. No beings could ever escape attention; not when they were such images of perfection. Somebody more worthy would have come across them before and spread word of them throughout the kingdoms. They would have composed songs and tales of their radiance that he never could conceive.

"Your thoughts fly close to the mark. We are well known to those who have the eyes to see it, Hero." The final said, the Nymph of Fire.

Her voice was louder than her sisters. Not arrogant but supremely sure that what she said would be heard and admired by the listener. Her voice had before been mournful, but now it could inspire armies to march to victory over insurmountable odds to simply her praise come from her lips.

He still didn't know who they were.

They smiled wider at him, eyes crinkling in laughter that was kind and not derogatory. His heart, which before had felt its natural fires dim brightened again.

The Nymph of Life spoke first, "I am Farore, Hero. When the world was young I breathed life into it and tended to the earth and made it fertile. All things that grow are my domain, and each is in turn my child whom I cherish."

The Nymph of Winds spoke next, "And I am Nayru. I gave structure to the world, and ensure that it does not stagnate into deformity. My domain is the winds that drive the world, and all progress is the fruit of my labors."

The Nymph of Fire once again spoke, "I am Din. I brought into being the red earth that we tread. Passion is my domain – the will to do and to think and to dream beyond ourselves. Where my sisters represent Life and its fruits, I ensure that it is worth living. I am happiness and sorrow, pain, rage, and suffering while I am also joy and ecstasy."

The sisters bowed to him, and he immediately protested such actions. They should never have to lower their heads to him – to bend themselves as if he were worthy of any such respect. He was a beast. Wild. Savage. His fur was greyer than black these days, and he had taken more lives in his own than he could remember. He didn't deserve to even be in their presence, much less be treated as anything less than an insect hidden in a dark corner.

"You have done more than you know. Or possibly remember. Your actions have shaped history, and your bravery has not, and never will be forgotten by us, Hero," Nayru said.

Her benevolent words left him confused. What had he ever done?

"You saved the world once. You don't remember, but you were brave and kind and everything we could have ever asked for a. You exceeded any expectation. I suspect you've retreated into ignorance though, for want of simplicity," Farore told him sorrowfully.

"Your labors were great, and you suffered much. To face an end as a beast though, is a lesser end than you ever deserved, even if it is understandable that you would accept as much instead of facing some of your past horrors," Din said.

He felt confused, but their words aroused an old weariness in him, and he suddenly felt much heavier on his paws than he had before. Their music had eased the tiredness from his aching limbs while it lasted, but it had gone now and he felt himself sink down again.

Farore knelt and began running her hands through he pelt comfortingly while he whined in protest. She didn't have to dirty her hand petting him.

"I do not mind, Hero. If I may give you a small measure of comfort before your end, it is but a small portion of what you are owed," Farore said, still smiling at him sadly as he finally gave in and relaxed his head on her lap.

Nayru joined her sister and began to rub the base of his ears, drawing rumbling noises of contentment from him. His world was dimming, and he fought it. He didn't want to fall asleep while the three were taking the time to bother with him.

Din knelt and cupped his cheeks, peering closely into his eyes with her own impossibly expressive violet irises.

"You may rest now, Hero. Find the peace you have long deserved," she said to him.

"Rest," Nayru agreed.

Farore continued to stroke him, and he stopped fighting the encroaching darkness.

He finally fell asleep under their comforting presence; an old grey wolf finally journeying to the Sacred Realm to join the family he had missed without remembering, but finally found.


End file.
